


Routine

by veronamay



Category: SPN RPS
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-10
Updated: 2008-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morning in the Padalecki-Ackles household. Co-written with <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://engenda.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://engenda.livejournal.com/"></a><b>engenda</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine

**Author's Note:**

> This is how [](http://engenda.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://engenda.livejournal.com/)**engenda** and I amused ourselves at work today. It made our respective Mondays a lot easier to deal with. I admit I started it, but she absolutely slaughtered me with pretty imagery and ... well, we ended up with this.

When Jared wakes up, Jensen's still out cold next to him. Experience has taught him to not disturb Jensen. Really, it doesn't end well. Better to let sleeping Jensens lie. Or something.

The dogs are snuffling on the floor; it's time for their morning run. As Jared starts to move, Jensen puts out his hand, groping for the closest piece of Jared and then stilling when he finds Jared's arm. Jared gets out of bed, leans over and kisses Jensen's wrist. Jensen doesn't move or acknowledge Jared at all, so he knows Jensen's not aware of what he's doing. He's still deeply asleep.

The dogs are restless so he gets changed in to his running gear, grabs their leashes and greets the day. It's dark outside and pretty cold, but it's a beautiful time of the morning, because the air is clear and there's no one to interrupt his thoughts. Harley and Sadie's claws scrape on the road as they run to keep up with his long stride.

When Jared gets home, Jensen is in the kitchen, hair all smushed down on one side and glasses on. He’s getting his first cup of coffee for the day in this vague, not-quite-awake-yet way, and Jared can’t help but come up behind him. His hands tangle in the shirt at Jensen’s hip and he plants a loud, smacking kiss to the nape of his neck. It’s a highlight in Jared’s day to see Jensen like this, because Jensen automatically tilts his head, giving Jared access to the skin behind his ear, for Jared to nuzzle. Like it's instinct. He wants to laugh out his happiness, but it’s quiet in the kitchen and he doesn’t want to spoil that. But if Jensen saw their reflection in the window he’d see Jared’s smile.

Jared lets go and steps back. When Jensen turns around, Jared can see the shirt Jensen is wearing is his. It’s inside out and a little big on him. The red colour is faded and the neckline is stretched. When Jensen takes a healthy sip from his mug, Jared can see the freckles along the hollow of his collarbone. Jared remembers dropping the shirt on the floor last night and he knows that Jensen grabbed it when he got out of bed and slipped it on before padding into the kitchen.

Jared waits for the moment when Jensen becomes alert. Because he knows that the first thing Jensen focuses on ... the first _person_ (because, well, coffee will generally win over _everything_ ) ... is Jared. There's always this telltale sign when Jensen's about to respond verbally to the day: two quick blinks and a slow lick of the lips. Jensen's voice is husky, warm with sleep.

"Morning, Jared."

Jensen will finish his coffee, dump the cup in the sink and go to have his shower. The light flickers off his glasses as he passes Jared, and his hand always reaches out to touch. Sometimes, he'll run a fingertip along the nape of Jared's neck; he might press his thumb to Jared's bottom lip. Sometimes he'll grasp Jared's wrist, fingers running along the sensitive skin at his pulse point. But there's always this touch, somewhere, some way.

Jared's sweaty and hot and the touch always makes him shiver. He's not sure if Jensen notices his reaction, because there's no smirk or comment. It's almost an absent gesture on Jensen's part. It's just part of his morning routine.

That just makes Jared hotter; this seeming unawareness of what he's doing. It's like, well, it's like it has nothing to do with Jared and everything to do with Jensen's subconscious. That when he focuses on Jared, his first instinct is to touch. And here, in the kitchen, when it's still dark outside and the dogs are panting quietly under the table, he knows he can indulge, and does.

Jared's used to it, and now he expects it. More than that, really he needs it to start _his_ day.

It's these unconscious moments that draw Jared in deeper. He's so tangled up now. He knows this because these moments are not the ones he'll share. With anybody. Jared keeps them close, because they're _his_. He's become possessive. It's got nothing to do with sex and everything to do with things he doesn't have words for.

Every morning, Jared looks forward to getting home from his run.

* * *

Morning is Jensen's least favourite time of day. He hates the slow drag out of sleep, or (even worse) the heart-thumping demand of a shrill alarm ordering him to start the day. If he ruled the universe, mornings would be outlawed.

Jared's a morning person. Jensen doesn't understand the concept— _liking_ the hours before midday? Voluntarily getting up a second before it's absolutely necessary in order to get to work on time? Forget it. He knows Jared likes to go running in the early mornings, when it's still dark and near freezing outside. The idea horrifies him. Jensen's idea of how to wake up involves a comfortable bed, the warmth of sunlight on his skin and a total lack of requirement to actually get up.

Next to having sex and acting, Jensen's favourite thing to do is sleep. He likes hovering on the edge of slumber, feeling all hazy and relaxed and knowing there are dreams waiting just around the corner, over the edge of consciousness. As reluctant as he is to surface from that same haze in the mornings, every night he savours the blissful slide into darkness, the same journey in reverse. It's like unlocking a secret part of himself every night, and locking it up again come morning.

He sleeps better with Jared. That's something that works both for and against him. Jensen's always been a pretty sound sleeper, but since they started sharing a bed it's like Jared's the best sleeping aid ever invented. All Jensen has to do is curl up next to him, some part of him in contact with Jared's body, and he's out like a light. It's fantastic, but it does pose problems when he's trying (grudgingly) to rejoin the human race after sunup.

Jensen's addicted to coffee. He needs it almost as much for the psychological kick as for the jolt of caffeine; it's how his body recognises that yes, the day is actually under way. Smell, taste, the feel of the cup held like precious crystal in his hands; it all adds up to Jensen's concept of _morning_. He's not fit for anything without it; it's been that way since he was sixteen.

Lately, something new has been added to this routine. Jensen tends to drag himself out of bed while Jared's still out with the dogs, because that's the best time to get access to the coffeemaker: less chance of tripping over errant housemates, two- and four-legged varieties. Sometimes Jared will put the coffee on before he leaves; this is a double-edged sword, because the smell will drag Jensen out of bed before he's ready, but on the other hand he doesn't have to make the coffee himself. He's still not sure whether the benefit outweighs the sacrifice.

When Jared gets back, Jensen's usually well into his second cup and he's starting to come awake. It's a slow process; it takes time. Jared, he thinks, finds it alternately amusing and baffling. He'll always crowd up close, a different angle every time, and kiss Jensen's neck like it's a ritual. Jensen likes this; it's hot, for one thing, and it agrees with his need to make mornings easier to deal with. Jared nuzzling him in the middle of the kitchen, arms slung around him from behind, is a damned good reason to be awake in Jensen's book.

Jensen wonders occasionally what it must be like to wake up and be instantly _aware_ , but he's not wired that way. He needs to feel things out, recognise the world and his place in it on a daily basis, so he can ground himself properly.

Jared grounds him. That should be strange, given Jared is always moving, looking for things to do and ways to occupy himself. Jared shouldn't be as steady as he is, shouldn't be so rock-solid with a personality like that. But he is, and that's become an integral part of Jensen's day. His routine has extended to include Jared's place in his life, to the point where he can't quite bring himself to believe it's time to start moving if Jared isn't there to show him. He'll reach out and touch, connect, just to feel the energy running under Jared's skin—the hollow of his throat, the soft skin behind his ear, the small patch of hip where his shirt is rucked up on one side. Nine times out of ten, Jared will be slightly sweaty and flushed with heat, and Jensen will breathe in his scent and all of his senses will kick into full awareness. It's the best alternative to an alarm clock he's ever known. His voice comes back to him and he rasps out a "Good morning," and it's worth getting up every day to see Jared's face light up in that smile.

END

 

Go leave feedback for [](http://engenda.livejournal.com/profile)[**engenda**](http://engenda.livejournal.com/) over [[here](http://engenda.livejournal.com/127462.html?style=mine)]. It's all her fault, really.


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